


Little Brother, Always

by nazangel



Series: Sherlock 'The Freak', 'The Highly Functioning Sociopath' Holmes Actually Has A Heart [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Brotherly Love, Brotherly feels, Depression, Mental Illnesses, Mycroft needs a hug, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14691948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazangel/pseuds/nazangel
Summary: Sometimes Mycroft needs his little brother. Sherlock will stay as long as he is needed.





	1. Day 1

Athena kept giving him worried looks as they drove back to his place. Mycroft ignored her in favour of staring at the dark streets of London.

The morning had started out alright. He had gotten up, went through his routine of washing up but when he had started dressing, something had shifted toward the negative. Suddenly the tie did not look good and the suit was too tight, and the shoes were not shiny enough.

The whole situation had been ridiculous. The outfit was pre-prepared by him the night before, it could not just be wrong in the morning. However, it had all still resulted in a knot in his stomach.

He had ignored it. First mistake. He knew what was happening. He could deduce it, but he had still ignored it.

He went to work like that and the pile of papers on his desk had nearly taken his breath away. That resulted in the first worried look of the day from Athena.

He had refused to eat the whole day. It was easier to concentrate on that then to indulge the voices in his head.

Logically he had known what was happening to him, still happening to him. The logical thing would have been to call Sherlock first thing in the morning. He did not. Second mistake.

Anxiety and depression did not leave room for logic.

' _Or for people' came a nasty snarl_

He did his best to block out the voices. It did not help.

They got back to his place and one of his security members opened the car door.

"Have a good night sir," said Athena, giving a questioning, silently asking if he needed anything else

Mycroft shook his head, "You as well, Athena. I will see you tomorrow,"

Without waiting for anything further he headed inside his house. He went straight to his sitting room and sat down in front of the fireplace.

One look at his face and the butler vacated the room.

He put his head in his hands and tried to breathe around the tightness in his chest. The thoughts of work and other problems were filling his mind.

Again, a part of his brain told him to call his brother before it got even worse. He ignored that part.

' _If he wanted to be here he would be here,' taunted the voices_

' _Your limits probably disgust him. Probably puts up with you because you're useful,'_

Mycroft clutched his head and gasped.

'No. No no no no,'

' _Yes. Yes, YES,'_

Mycroft dug his nails into his arm. It was not true. He was not calling Sherlock because he was afraid that his brother might get upset enough to have a relapse of his own. Mycroft was not the only with mental health problems after all.

No better to leave little brother out of it.

" _Liar. Liar," the voice sang, 'Trying to convince yourself your brother cares about you. You know he does not. Otherwise, he would be here. He saw you after all,'_

He dug his nails deeper. He had visited the Yard, he had locked eyes with Sherlock from across a crowded room. Sherlock had deduced his state of mind but had done nothing. Just turned and left.

' _De de diddle do. Litter brother does not want you. De de diddle do. Little brother does not…,'_

The voices mixed in his worries of the office and a gnawing feeling started to tear him from the inside. He knew what would happen. He would cry and rock himself until he was tired and nearly comatose and that was when the depression would set in. He would feel lonely and wrong and utterly pathetic, not wanting to move.

The knowledge did not help at the least. Knowing what was happening to him, did not give him the power to stop it.

No, that was someone else's job.

' _De de diddle do. Litter brother does not…'_

"Sherlock," he whimpered, not expecting a response.

"Mycroft," came the reply

His head snapped to see his little brother standing there. Was he hallucinating too now?

Sherlock knelt at his feet, "No, big brother. You are not hallucinating,"

Mycroft let the other take his hands and gently rub his wrists. He put his head back against the chair and took a deep breath. His head was still filled with swirling anxious thoughts but the taunts about his brother had stopped as soon as Sherlock had touched him.

Gently, Sherlock tugged him upwards until he was standing. He let himself be blindly lead. It was not until his brother pushed him to sit down that he noticed he was in his room, sitting on his bed.

Sherlock said something to him. He could not process it over the noise in his head, so he just nodded.

After that, he zoned out. He woke up to a someone gently drying him off with a towel. Sherlock must have given him a bath. Next, he was helped into some comfortable clothes. Sherlock then lead him to the bed and gently tucked him into the covers, sitting so his head was cradled against Sherlock's chest.

Mycroft clutched at his brother's shirt, wanting to make sure he did not disappear.

"I'm here, Mycie," said Sherlock, "I'm here. It's alright,"

"I thought you were not coming," whispered Mycroft with a slight whimper

"Oh Mycie," said Sherlock, "You tried to deduce me at the Yard. We have talked about this. No deducing when you are in a state like this. You will get it wrong,"

"But-"

"A child had been kidnapped Mycroft," said Sherlock, "If it had been a murder or something else of the sort I would have let it drop but the child was taken by someone who killed her parents and I had to find her,"

"Did you?" said Mycroft

"Yes," said Sherlock, "She is with her uncle now. I promise Mycroft, I will never leave you alone, especially when you get one of your episodes,"

Mycroft felt much calmer now, "Okay,"

Sherlock kissed his hair and started to hum a French lullaby. Slowly Mycroft fell asleep.

Sherlock watched as his brother's eyes finally closed and he fell into sleep. He could not help but smile at the way Mycroft clutched at him, even in sleep.

He remembered when they were younger, the first time he had noticed something was wrong. He was barely six years old when he noticed that Mycroft has started clutching him harder at night, not wanting him to go back to his own bed. Even at a young age, Sherlock had found it odd, since Mycroft had always encouraged him to try to sleep on his own,  _'There is nothing in the dark Sherlock, I promise'_

He had asked his big brother about it. Mycroft had denied that anything was wrong. Sherlock had not believed him.

Eventually, the situation had grown and come to the attention of their parents. They had sent him to a renowned facility where he had been diagnosed with general anxiety, mild OCD and clinical depression. He had been signed a psychiatrist and was given medication. It had helped, Mycroft would still have bad days occasionally. On those days all he needed was someone to be there for him. His favourite person was always his younger brother. Sherlock would read to him, play the violin and cuddle with him.

Eventually, a few different medications later, Mycroft no longer had his bad days and he was ready to go off to University two years before his peers. Or so everyone thought.

It was around that time that Sherlock had been diagnosed too, with autism, the kind that caused social anxiety and apparently his overactive mind to produce voices. The voices repeated everything he saw, they were annoying, sometimes overwhelming, but neutral, unlike Mycroft's.

Sherlock had hoped that his know apparently 'cured' brother would take care of him too, the way he had helped him, but Mycroft had kept his distance. Barely visited during holidays.

It had made Sherlock angry and he had started resenting his brother. Eventually, in his later years of secondary school, he had started indulging in soft drugs, earning him many annoying lectures from his parents but nothing from his older brother.

In university, it had gotten worse, for three years he had taken cocaine and heroin like healthy people ate food. It did not take away the loneliness but numbed it for a while. Mycroft had put him through rehab many times, just for Sherlock to relapse again. Sherlock had yelled at him every time, calling him terrible names, accusing of abandonment.

Sherlock shuddered to think where he would be if he had not stumbled on to Lestrade's crime scene eight years ago.

"Lock," Mycroft mumbled in his sleep. Sherlock smiled and pulled him closer.

Today when Mycroft had made his way into the station per their deal,  _('If you need me text me, call or just show up where I am,' 'Same to you,'_ ) it had taken everything inside of Sherlock not to instantly go to his side. But there had been a little girl missing so Sherlock had quickly turned and left the room. He had located the girl in the next hour and thirty-three minutes, hurrying back to his brother, hoping he was not late.

He almost was. Seeing Mycroft so close to a break down had reminded of the first time, after getting clean, he had realized that his big brother was still very much affected by his illnesses.

_Flashback_

_Sherlock made his way to Mycroft's door. He had almost not come, but something in Alice's voice had stopped him. His brother's assistant rarely sounded anything but perfectly composed. Today there had been a tremor in her voice as she all but begged him to come._

_Before he could knock, the door was opened for him by Francine. He looked her up and down. Haggard. Worried. Stresses. Frustrated because she could not do anything._

_Something was wrong._

" _What is it?" said Sherlock_

" _He is in his room,"_

_Sherlock looked Alice but followed her directions to his brother's room. Once he got there, his heart nearly stopped._

_Mycroft was curled up in a ball on his sofa chair, His hair was dishevelled, his clothes wrinkled and there were dry tear tracks on his cheeks. He was quietly rocking himself back forth._

_It reminded Sherlock of when they were little._

_Sherlock went to his brother and gently made him look up at him._

" _Sherlock?" whispered Mycroft_

" _Come here," Sherlock gently, pulling his brother close, like he had done years ago._

_Alice extended a glass toward him, "It has sleep medicine in it. That's how I usually keep him calm. He kept refusing them today,"_

_Sherlock frowned. Mycroft never needed sleeping pills before but then again, he had not seen his brother in this state for a long time._

_He gently coaxed the other man into drinking and then lead him to the bed. He removed his outer clothing and held him until he fell asleep._

" _Explain," he said to Alice_

" _He was never okay," said Alice_

" _What?"_

" _He pretended. He did not want to be a burden to you. He thought you were too young to have to carry the burden of having an ill brother and then you were diagnosed, and it just reaffirmed his belief. He convinced me that he would talk to you once you were older but-"_

" _-But I took to drugs," said Sherlock, his mind racing, trying to put together what Alice was saying_

" _He does not always get like that and I can usually help him by giving him sleeping pills-"_

" _He never needed sleeping pills when we were younger,"_

" _Of course," said Alice, "He had you,"_

_Sherlock felt his heart lurch._

" _Today was different," continued Alice, "He refused the medication and I didn't know what to do but then I heard him whisper your name in the middle of his breakdown and decided to take chance. You have been clean for a few months now, so I thought it might work,"_

" _Thank you" whispered Sherlock_

_Flashback_

Sherlock kissed Mycroft's forehead. He was very glad he had not been late.


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More brotherly love.

Slowly, Mycroft felt himself wake up. For a few minutes, he just lay there, listening to the sound of his shower running.

Sherlock must have gotten up before him.

He tried to will himself to get up but could not bring himself to. Every bone in his body felt weighted down and down and his muscles felt like they were turning into jelly.

In the back of his mind, he processed that there was no longer any noise from the shower.

He sighed. Sherlock would want to talk. Anyone else he could dupe into thinking that he was still too bad a state to hold a conversation but not Sherlock.

The bathroom door opened, and Sherlock stepped out, already fully dressed.

“I ran you a bath but if you want you can take a shower,” said Sherlock

Mycroft sighed burrowed further into the covers.

“Come now Mycroft,” chided Sherlock, “I know you want to stay in bed. Just clean up a bit. We will have a small breakfast and then you can come back,”

Mycroft groaned, “Do not think I do not know what you are doing,”

Sherlock just grinned. Bastard. He knew once Mycroft got out of bed, he would not go back in.

Mycroft entertained the idea of just staying in bed and wallowing in his leftover misery but then decided against it.

Sherlock helped him up and lead him to the bathroom, “I’ll be waiting outside,”

Mycroft carefully cleaned himself up, taking his time to relax, knowing with certainty that he was not going to work today.

Once he was done he put on the bathrobe Sherlock had left for him and stepped out. True to his word, Sherlock was waiting in the room. He had also laid out some comfortable clothing for the older man.

“Get dressed and meet me for breakfast,” said Sherlock, “And then we will talk,”

Mycroft nodded. Once he was done dressing, he followed his brother to the sitting room. The staff had set up a table for two there.

“Egg breakfast muffins, hash browns and French toast,” said Sherlock, “Your favourite combinations, well not the hash browns. Those are mine. Our medication is here too,”

Mycroft smiled as both brothers slid into chairs opposite from each other. As they ate Mycroft thought exactly how he was going to word his explanation to the recent events so, that his little brother would be satisfied.

It reminded of the first time adult Sherlock had cuddled him after an episode, right after he had come clean. His assistant, going be Alice at the time, had contacted him.

_Flashback_

_Mycroft blinked the sleep away from his. Turning a little he realized that there was another body in bed with him, gently holding him._

_Sherlock._

_Of course, Mycroft vaguely remembered Sherlock being around him for the past – he could not remember the exact amount of time, but he could remember his brother there._

_The memories were fuzzy as they always were, but he could remember Sherlock coaxing him to eat crackers and soup, fruit salads and scrambled eggs, Sherlock holding him and rocking him gently, drying his tears, helping him change, playing the violin to him, putting him to sleep._

_Sherlock was here._

_‘but for how long,’ snarled a voice_

_“Shut up,” he said out loud_

_Sherlock stirred, “Mycroft?”_

_Mycroft winced, “Apologies. I did not mean to wake you,”_

_Sherlock sat up and tilted his head, “Formal speech, You’re a little more present today,”_

_Mycroft looked away in shame, feeling a knot start to tighten in his chest._

_However, Sherlock pulled him close and stroked his hair, “My,”_

_“Yes,”_

_“Do you feel up to breakfast,”_

_“Not yet,” whispered Mycroft, “I want to stay here, just a little longer,”_

_“Whatever you need,”_

_“Thank you,”_

_“Also,” said Sherlock, “Do not worry about the government. Your assistant put together a team that is covering your position,”_

_Mycroft smiled a small smile. Sherlock might be horrible at keeping up with Mycroft’s life most of the time, but during situations like these, he always knew what Mycroft needed to hear before Mycroft himself knew._

_“I have missed this,” said Mycroft softly_

_Sherlock hugged him tighter, “Then why did you push me away, My? Alice tried to explain but I still do not understand”_

_“You were the only one who could calm me down when I got like this and I knew you did not mind but I saw what it did to you. How worried you were and how sometimes you would lose sleep so, I started to pretend that the medication was flawless and that I was fine. It became easier to pretend that I was fine once I moved away. When you were diagnosed too I believed my actions were correct, I would not burden you when you had your own issues, so I stayed away. I did not realize how it would affect you,”_

_“I thought you abandoned me,” said Sherlock_

_“I know that now ‘Lock and I am so very sorry,” said Mycroft, “I cannot apologize enough,”_

_“Alice said you thought about letting me close again once I was older,”_

_“Yes, I did but-”_

_“Drugs,” said Sherlock matter of factly_

_Mycroft nodded._

_“Well I’m here now,” said Sherlock, “Can you tell me though, what exactly happens to you, so I can help you better,”_

_“It’s not easy to explain,” said Mycroft, “Usually the medication works but sometimes something will trigger me, or I will just wake up feeling out of sorts. There are two kinds of attacks. The ones that start with a panic attack and the ones that gradually get to the point of a panic attack. After that they are very similar. Alice usually gives me sleeping pills,”_

_“That does not sound like an adequate solution,” said Sherlock_

_“It is not,” said Mycroft_

_“Tell me about the attacks. The gradual one since the other one seems to start in the middle of that,”_

_“I will wake up feeling…wrong, for the lack of better words, or something during the day will trigger me and start a knot of anxiety in my chest. It feels like an actual knot. Usually it something ridiculous like suddenly not liking my clothes, or becoming disgusted about my weight, not being able to solve a problem at work as fast I should, at least in my opinion. That is when I start to question myself and so the voices start. They’ll taunt me about everything that is wrong with my life and I’ll ignore it until they make me snap and I break down. The duration of that time could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days. Eventually I’ll collapse. I can usually sense it coming so I head home where I basically collapse and cry like a child feeling utterly alone and pathetic and worthless, useless and wrong and…and….”_

_“Shh,” said Sherlock, pulling him close, “It’s alright,”_

_“And miserable,” said Mycroft with tears in his eyes and voice laced with pain, “I always feel so miserable. So much that sometimes I want to die,”_

_“Oh Mycroft,” said Sherlock. His little brother pulled him to his chest and gently stroked his back, “It’s alright if you want to stop now,”_

_“No,” mumbled Mycroft, “Might as well keep going,”_

_“If you are sure, My,”_

_Mycroft nodded, “That is usually when Alice will give me my pills and I’ll fall asleep. If I do not take them I eventually start crying and go into a sort of cationic, depressive state. I just lie in bed until I can drag myself out and go to work. I go to my psychiatrist and gradually go back to my normal level of anxiety,”_

_“Sounds awful,” said Sherlock_

_“Most of all I hate going through it alone. There are a few people who would be willing to help but none of them even know what to do,”_

_“You do not have to go through it alone any more,” said Sherlock, “If you need me text, call or just show up where I am,”_

_“Same to you,” said Mycroft_

_Sherlock nodded_

_“I mean it Sherlock. I know your anxiety is not as bad as mine, but I also know that you have panic attacks sometimes so, if you do have something like that or ever feel like relapsing please call me,”_

_“OK,”_

_Flashback_

“So, Big Brother,” said Sherlock, as they both put their utensils down “What was it this time?”

“Morning Ritual,” said Mycroft, “Clothes and shoes felt off. Went to work, none of the problems was going like I wanted, and you know I can usually deal with but today was just not my day. The voices started up so, I went to see you. You know what happened there. After that I took a bit of a ride through London, barely holding myself together. Came home. Almost worked me into a panic attack and then you came,”

“Hmm,” said Sherlock, “You are leaving something important out,”

_De de diddle do. Little brother does not want you._

Mycroft shuddered. Sherlock looked at him with concern.

“Can we talk about it a bit later,”

Sherlock assessed him for a few minutes but then nodded, “Your assistant, what name is she going by now?”

“Athena,”

“The Greek goddess of wisdom and war,” said Sherlock, “How appropriate,”

Mycroft smiled in agreement, “What about her?”

“She brought work for both of us,” said Sherlock, “If you are feeling up to it, you can delve into some files of your own. If not, you can help me solve cold cases for The Yard,”

“Okay,” said Mycroft, glad to let his brother take the lead

“Good,”

After breakfast, the two brothers ended up on opposite sides of the couch. Sherlock with a towering stack of cases from the Yard and a few from clients and Mycroft with a stack of his own.

Mycroft tried to pay attention to his work, but he could not. Every time he tried to think of a solution to one of the problems, he immediately started to doubt it, starting up the voices all over again.

He felt his hands start shaking, his body started to feel cold –

A hand on his back gently soothed him, “Why don’t you help me with these cases?”

Mycroft nodded. Sherlock shifted so they were both sitting shoulder to shoulder.

The first case was a teenage girl abducted and killed, found in the Thames. Jealous boyfriend did it.

Second case. Couple murdered in their bed.

“Double suicide,” they said in together and grinned.

They did that for the next few hours. They separated the cases in three piles. Solved. New leads Found. Need more information.

Once they were done Sherlock looked at the clock and nudged his brother, “Time for lunch,”

“Ugh,” said Mycroft, “Lunch,”

“Don’t worry. It’s seasoned chicken with a side of potato salad. Nothing heavy,”

“Alright,”

They ate quickly and went back to the sofa. Sherlock started paying the violin and Mycroft tried once again to concentrate on his work. This time it turned out much better. He actually read a few reports, answered some emails and got Sherlock to be quiet for a twenty-minute video conference with the Minister of weapons.

Once he was done with three-quarters of his work, Sherlock sat down with him, “Let’s go for a drive,”

“A drive?”

“Yes,” said Sherlock, “Like we used to. I’ll drive,”

Mycroft smiled as he remembered

_Flashback_

_Mycroft stirred again. It was night time and he was tired, yet he could not fall asleep._

_“Mycroft,” said a sleepy voice from his door. Seventeen years old Sherlock was standing there rubbing his eyes._

_“Yes,”_

_“Can you not sleep,” said Sherlock_

_He almost sounded concerned. It surprised Mycroft. These days Sherlock mostly just resented him. Not that one could blame him. No one wanted a burden for a big brother._

_“Something like that,” answered Mycroft_

_“We should go driving,”_

_“What,” said Mycroft_

_“Remember,” said Sherlock, “Papa sometimes took you for a drive when you were feeling badly. I could take you. Maybe it will help,”_

_Mycroft wanted to stay no. Wanted to tell him that it was not his job to take care of him, but it had been so long since him and his brother had had a nice conversation. Sometimes missed it so much that he cried._

_‘Just this one time,’ he thought, ‘It’s just a drive. Sherlock doesn’t mind driving. I’ll just sit there quietly,’_

_“OK,” he said_

_“OK,” said Sherlock, “I’ll get dressed,”_

_They drove around for at least two hours that night. Mycroft almost forgot about the tightness in his chest._

_Flashback_

Mycroft looked at the work that was still left. He should finish it but… he _had_ been training a few people to take up his position and Athena had a team to take over in case of emergency. Maybe it was time to check again exactly how good they were.

“Alright,” he said, getting up, “Let’s go,”

They took out the sleek grey, bulletproof Audi with Sherlock in the driver’s seat. Mycroft knew his security detail would follow them.

“So,” said Mycroft, “How are John and Rosie,”

“Wonderful,” said Sherlock, “Did I tell you she calls me Papa?”

“Oh really?” said Mycroft, “That is wonderful. What does John think of it,”

“He thinks it’s wonderful too,” said Sherlock, “We actually talked about me adopting her,”

“I am certain you make an amazing father,”

“Hmm,” said Sherlock, “You do realize that this makes you an uncle,”

Mycroft could not speak around the tightness of his throat. All he managed was a small, “Oh,”

Sherlock smiled and squeezed his hand. Sherlock then asked him about his most recent date with Gregory, which he vehemently denied was a date and from there the conversation flowed to other topics. They talked about their little sister and how their parents were coming around, how Sherlock could one day imagine marrying John. How Mary Morstan seemed to be flirting with Molly.

“Is Molly bisexual,” said Mycroft

“From what I have seen, she does not seem to care about the gender of her partners,”

“Hmm,” said Mycroft, “Maybe there is something there,”

“Like you and Lestrade,” said Sherlock

“Oh, for the last time little brother. There is nothing between us,”

“But you want there to be,” teased Sherlock, with a knowing grin

Mycroft just rolled his eyes at him

“Just in case,” said Sherlock, “He likes yellow tulips,”

Mycroft harrumphed but made a mental note anyway. Sherlock smiled at him knowingly

He was enjoying himself so much that he did not notice the time, not until his stomach grumbled loudly.

“Hungry,” said Sherlock

“Just a bit,” said Mycroft. The grumbling of his stomach said more than a bit.

“Are you up to eating at Angelo’s. There are more than enough corner tables where we could sit away from other people,”

Mycroft thought about it, “I think I would like that,”

“Good,”

A few short minutes later they were both seated at a table away from the general population

“It is usually for intimate dates,” Angelo had said

The brothers had just rolled their eyes at him and told him to keep the candle inside.

Dinner was a quiet affair. They ate in a comfortable silence and enjoyed each other’s company. Afterwards, they went straight home. Sherlock once again picked up the violin, refusing Mycroft’s offer for tea. Mycroft made some for himself and sat down to drink it.

That is how they stayed for the rest of the evening. Mycroft on the sofa, mind blissfully empty, except for the sounds and notes of his brother alternating between playing the violin and the piano.

Eventually, Mycroft’s eyes started twitching a bit, indicating to Sherlock that he was tired. Sherlock stepped away from the piano and circled one of Mycroft’s wrists, “Time for bed, My,”

Mycroft smiled, “I am not a child you know,”

Sherlock just hummed and lead him to his room. Sherlock stepped into the adjacent room to change, leaving Mycroft by himself. Mycroft changed went to the bathroom to perform his nightly ritual. Once he was done, he came to see Sherlock sitting in his bed.

“Should I go to my room or do you want me to stay here?”

Mycroft hesitated, “It becomes hard…to sleep the few nights after an episode. I would not like to be alone if something happens,”

Sherlock just smiled and patted the bed beside him. Mycroft slid under the covers and his bother did the same. They were both on different sides of the bed but close enough that one of them could reach out and touch the other one’s arm.

“Good night,” said Sherlock, as he turned off the light

“Good night,” Said Mycroft

Mycroft fell asleep pretty quick. Sherlock was about to enter sleep too when his brother started whimpering softly. At first, Sherlock waited to see if Mycroft would just settle down on his own, but he abandoned that thought as the sounds got louder.

Sherlock circled his brother’s wrist and squeezed lightly, “My, wake up,”

Mycroft tried to pull his arm away.

Sherlock shook him a little, “Come on Mycroft. _Wake up_ ,”

Mycroft jerked awake, breathe coming out in gasps.

“Hey. Hey,” said Sherlock, gently squeezing his shoulder “What happened?”

Mycroft looked up and Sherlock could see leftover panic there, “I am not sure,”

“OK,” said Sherlock, “Do you want to lay down again,”

“Not yet,” said Mycroft

Sherlock nodded. They sat beside each other, shoulders and arms touching.

 _“De de diddle do. Little brother does not want you,”_ whispered Mycroft

Horrified Sherlock turned so they were face to face, “What?!”

“That’s what the voices were chanting today,”

Sherlock studied him for a moment, “I don’t have to tell you how wrong they are,”

Mycroft looked down and twisted his fingers.

Sherlock made him look up, “You do know that, right?”

“Yes, I do, logically but sometimes my mind lets me down,”

Sherlock sighed, “Well, they are wrong. I don’t say this a lot, but you are the best big brother one could ask for,”

Mycroft smiled.

“But if you tell anyone I said that I will never speak to you again,”

Mycroft could not help the laugh that rumbled out.

“Are you ready to go back to sleep now,” asked Sherlock

“Yes,”

They both lay down again and this time when Mycroft went back to sleep there were no nightmares.


End file.
